Unwrap
by Whitewash
Summary: Shiki was like a Christmas present: surely a wonderful surprise after you've managed to peel all the wrapping off and rip the box open. You'll have to make do with what you find inside, at any rate. NekuxShikixEri, interpret as you will.


One time they sat, outside on a bench, eating vanilla soft serve from Sunshine Burger, bored because Neku wasn't here. If Neku wasn't here, Shiki wasn't herself, and if Shiki wasn't herself, Eri wasn't herself, either. Neku had filled some hole in Shiki Eri had failed to notice, and she was sort of jealous. But only a little. Shiki had always scolded her for not being mindful of other people's feelings—like hers, for instance. Eri could never understand why people seemed so upset. Shiki told her she was better that way—even if Neku knew what she was going through, she didn't want Eri to go through the same thing. Whenever she talked to one or the other, it was as if she had entered a private, two-person world. For Neku, it was a girl's thing, and he couldn't help it if he didn't care about how Shiki dressed. For Eri, it seemed they had shared an apparently traumatizing experience, and she felt too awkward to ask about it. Besides, Neku made Shiki better. That was good enough for her.

Eri was always a bit of an outsider when she ran into Neku's other friends—the tough-talking skater, his little sister, and on occasion the smug, messy-haired boy she couldn't help but dislike. They all talked, sort of, as if they'd just been given a second chance at life, and were clinging to it with all they had. It was admirable, but...strange. It was OK to talk about dreams and all, but they were kids, and kids weren't supposed to talk about things like regrets for the past and fears for the future. Moreover, they all still looked kind of mopey whenever they met together. She tried to imagine what the "big secret" between them must have been: what, did they all get into a terrible bus accident or something? The only kid that didn't act exactly downbeat—more like a sarcastic, conceited version of a grumpy Neku—was Joshua. He usually only talked to Neku, who somehow managed to deal with his behavior without attempting to strangle him. Eri certainly would've tried on more than one occasion. Shiki had changed for sure, but she had good, trustworthy friends. If no one else, Eri felt she could rely on Neku, who was smart, levelheaded, and really seemed to love her.

The only problem was that Neku wasn't actually here, which usually meant Shiki reverted into a shy, skittish creature that hid behind Eri and didn't talk to people. Today was no different. Eri was bored, and Shiki looked anxious. She had Mr. Mew with her. It was starting to look a little ragged.

"What did you do to mess it up so bad?" Eri had once asked her.

"It got...trampled by a dog."

"Really? Where?"

"Near the statue of Hachiko."

"Oh. I guess it got mistaken for a chew toy or something."

Shiki frowned at that.

"I-I mean, it's quality work! Like a real designer's."

"Hachiko trampled it," Shiki muttered under her breath.

When they'd first met, Shiki had just made Mr. Mew. She'd left it under her desk after class, and Eri, being nosy, chased after her with it. She was surprised to learn that Shiki had made it by _hand_, and begged to have one of her own—she'd pay for it! How much did she want? 5,000 yen? 10,000 yen? Shiki refused repeatedly. She would only agree if Eri would stop talking about it in front of everyone else. Eri couldn't comprehend why; she loved the attention. But she made the deal anyway, on the terms that her own stuffed animal would be of her personal design.

"Your design?" Shiki asked her quietly.

"Well, that's what I want to be. We're surrounded by fashion, after all!"

Shiki made a hobby out of creating stuffed animals. Three or four of them, including the newly-made Mr. Mew, sat on her bed in her room at home. Eri was duly impressed. She insisted that Shiki try making clothes instead. Shiki said no, that she was bad at anything other than toys, and that she would only agree if Eri came up with the designs. Shiki liked her new friend's designs, and it was only a pastime, at any rate. Then Eri started talking about dreams.

"You don't have any dreams for the future?"

"I don't really know..." Shiki admitted.

"You do live in Shibuya. Maybe you could make a living in the fashion industry."

"That'd be hard."

"Shoot for the moon." Eri giggled.

"I guess..."

That was at the start of middle school, when they were 13. Eri didn't notice Shiki's becoming more withdrawn over time, as she dragged her around going clothes shopping and comparing designs. Eri was always asking, "What do you think of this?" or "Can you make that?" When the reply wasn't a yes or no answer, it was usually an, "I don't know." That had always annoyed her. Shiki was talented, with a sharp eye for detail. She could copy the lace on Lapin Angelique bonnets, if Eri told her to. She did everything for her. It was as if she didn't want to do anything for herself.

That day, when Shiki finally admitted she wanted to be a designer too, was the same day she disappeared.

It was just one sentence! She didn't mean to crush her hopes and dreams. Shiki had different ones now, she claimed, but Eri called BS on that.

Eri threw her cone wrapper into the trash. Shiki was biting on hers half-heartedly.

"So," Eri finally said. "What do you see in that Neku guy, anyway?"

Shiki dropped her cone.

Eri swept it up barely in time. "I'll hold onto this for you," she said.

"He...likes me for...who I am."

"I think there's a little more to it than that."

Shiki looked at the ground, where the cone would've been if Eri hadn't picked it up. "You know I was jealous of you. He told me I didn't have to be."

"I could've told you that!"

"But you're Eri," she said, looking at her.

"Who else would I be?" Eri almost wondered if Shiki was asking herself the same.

"I wanted to be you."

That was just a little creepy, but kind of nice at the same time. That meant Shiki really liked her, after all. Wanting to _be_ her was kind of a stretch, though. "Why?"

"Because I didn't have any confidence in myself," Shiki answered flatly.

Eri almost bit into Shiki's cone until she realized it wasn't hers. Oops. "So you're learning that from Neku, huh?" He was a really sweet guy to her, a lot better to her than most could've been.

"But there's still something missing," she admitted.

"You, of course," Eri said carelessly, bringing the cone close to her face. She groaned when she noticed Shiki staring at her. "Ergh." Eri handed over that cone. "Sorry."

Shiki passed it back. "No thanks."

"Why not?"

"I don't want it anymore."

Eri sighed, finished it, and then tossed the wrapper in the trash. "You don't waste food like that."

Shiki rolled her eyes. "Sorry."

"So how do you think you're going to change? I mean, to be you, really, and not..." Eri quirked her lips, "me?"

"I don't know."

"But that's what you always say!"

"Well, I don't. You're flashy and perfect, and I'm just...nobody. Your shadow."

"You don't have to make clothes for me anymore. You can work on your designs!"

"But I'm bad at it, like you said..."

"I suck at sewing, though. I could learn a thing or two from you."

"You never asked..."

"I'm asking now."

"Fine," Shiki grumbled.

She really hadn't changed that much. She was still the same old, begrudgingly, unfailingly loyal best friend that Eri knew her to be. The only difference was that this time around she managed to open up to somebody.

Eri sat tapping her fingers on the bench, giggly and high on soft-serve. Time to try it out, then. "Let me tell you a secret, Shiki."

Shiki looked at her, taken aback, and more than a little confused.

Eri leaned in, unnervingly close, hand to her mouth, and whispered in Shiki's ear, "I love you." She bounded back and watched with a wide smile as Shiki turned progressively redder. "It's true," she said, and laughed and pecked her on the cheek.

Shiki sat still as a statue, beet-faced and sinking into her shirt. Eri must have seemed incomprehensible to her today.

And really, that was just how they liked it.


End file.
